From Fear to Here

[passion_bleeds]

a Shakespearean style sonnet

I hate when nights grow tired and cold. I hear
A branch impress its sturdy claws against
A falsely heightened dread in which a mere
Belief in Christ would take me from this mess;
This mess of fear, this mess of life. I shake
At times when Luna settles high above
Opaque, encasing clouds. The dark will take
What it desires, of which is my beloved,
Of which is my constraint on tempting “bliss”.
But one it can’t extract is Ghost within.
A gift received from one above, I kiss
His feet for Heaven’s love; absorb my sin
With perfect forfeit, shedding light on all.
I thank you God for Christ and Ghost installed.

...veritas et caritas...